My Last Wish
by PizzaAndBeer
Summary: Gilbert, as Prussia ceases to exist, takes the time to write his little brother one last letter. GerIta. Germany is Holy Rome.
1. A Good Man

**This chapter has been edited, let me know if I missed something. Thanks for reading!**

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><p>To: Ludwig Beilschmidt.<p>

Feb, 1947

Most Awesome Little Brother,

I'm not feeling so hot today. Like this is the worst I've ever felt. It's taking all my focus to use prissy Austria's fancy smancy typewriter to write this out. Honestly, I don't know why we need these huge clunking things, pens are way more awesome. But I guess that's just my inner old man talking. Besides, you always say my handwriting is shitty and I wanted you to be able to read all this.

In all honesty, and you know the great Prussia never holds back on that, I wasn't going to write to you. But Liza whacked me real hard with that frying pan of hers and gave me this huge ass lecture about what a dick of a big brother I've been and how you need me and shit.

….I don't really think you need me anymore. You would have figured all this out on your own because you're so smart and efficient and strong. Basically, I did a good damn job somewhere in the raising process.

But just in case you do need me, I want you to read all this. Every. Last. Word. And take your time, your always in such a damn hurry.

It seems that this is my last wish, so listen to me.

By the time you get this, I'll probably be dead in Austria's living room of all the stupid places. I wish I could have died in battle. Do you think Roderich would fight me to the death? In my state, he would actually win. It's like the only chance he would ever have. ..I don't think he will. He never does anything I want him too!

Shit, I coughed on the paper.

I don't really have time to start over…

That's a little gruesome, isn't it? A bloody last note. Sorry about that.

I'm going to rub blood all over Roerich's furniture!

And his piano keys!

He'll be pissed at me when they're putting me in the grave. Can't have that bitch crying over me. It's bad enough that Liza is. You'll be pleased to know that I made my peace with her at last. After all, loving someone doesn't obligate them to love you. Remember that Ludwig, you have to be what they need too. I don't know why I'm telling you that though, you were better at that than me when you only came to my knees. You might be a little loud and quick to anger, But you're an excellent man.

You always gave me what I needed, even when I didn't know it myself. Even when the world was dark and desolate and covered in blood, where I saw you it was a beautiful place. When Old Fritz died, When Liza didn't pick me, when I was knee deep in trench mud and I could smell burnt people on the wind, I still loved you. I think there were times when you were all I really loved. It's like that with a child and you will always be my child, even if you do get to be a freakin foot taller than me.

I know you don't think your excellent anymore, Ludwig. But I know better. Nothing he did to us was your fault. We didn't know until it was too late! Please understand, for me, that you're a victim of this war, just like our people. You are what they are and there's no separating it. That's the price we pay and the gift we receive for what we are.

It was an awesome gift to have had.

But you were the greatest gift I ever received.

And now I'm crying on the damn paper, so much for neatness. I haven't been this damn sentimental since I met you. So, you need to get over all this and be happy for me. I need to let go knowing that I asked you to do that!

But there are other purposes to this letter, things you might chose to be angry with me for. But try to understand, okay?

Do you know what your name means? I must have taught you sometime, but it's been such a long life. It means "Famous Warrior", pretty awesome right? I thought so, when I choose it. I suppose you would have assumed that Grandpa named you. ..and he did once. Grandpa called you Otto. Otto was Holy Rome's name. It meant "Wealth". Wealth is something to make people jealous and cruel. It's better to be strong. Otto was never strong enough. So when he woke up, I called him something else. After all, Otto was supposed to be dead. I couldn't very well keep calling you that.

I know this must sound silly, like I'm talking out of my head. But I'm sane as I've ever been, even if that wasn't much, I just hurt a lot. Ask Liza, ask Francis, they know. Ask Feliciano, when you do finally go back to him, it won't take him long to remember. Your death was the worst day of my life, even worse than today. I remember it all in painstaking detail. I'll try to tell it best as I can, so that maybe you will be able to recall it.

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><p><strong>Historical Note: <strong>

1947 is the year that Prussia ceased to exist. **In my headcannon**, I imagine that this would have hurt Gilbert greatly on a physical level. It's also my headcannon that Ludwig would share Gil's last name and that Holy Rome's name was Otto, a popular name for Holy Roman Emperors. The name meanings are legit in that I researched them. But name meanings are always subject to debate. Isn't it neat that Ludwig could mean "Famous Warrior"? It's so him!

**Author's Note:**

I've had this idea and I just had to write it. Like it's been stuck on my brain for months. idk if I'm any good at conveying emotion this way (letter format). But it's great practice anyway and it gives me a lot of room to play around with headcannons, which is a lot of fun. I usually don't post fics until I'm all done, but I want feedback on this one as it grows. **Reviews will give me all the happiness. **

**Expect at least one more chapter,** but I'll probably drag on a bit longer than that.

**Also, I'm my own Beta. **Don't hesitate to point out any grievous errors. But this is supposed to have been written by a sick person, so I wasn't exactly going for perfect sentence structure or neat flow with it.

**It's so much fun to share this fandom with you guys! Love you. Good Night! **


	2. The Worst War

I didn't intend to wait so long between chapters, but nothing really goes how we intend.

I'm excited to add a lot more to this fic!

I hope you guys enjoy.

You may want to refresh on the first chapter a bit. Remember Gil is just about to explain the Holy Rome issue to Ludwig.

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><p>I used to think it didn't matter if you remembered any of it.<p>

That was kinda selfish of me, now that I think on it…. And maybe Liza said a bit about that while she was bitching at me earlier. That was the only part that freakin priss Austria felt the need to speak up for. He'd just kinda been staring at us. But he has a soft spot for Feliciano. Hell, doesn't everyone? He said something like "How could you…be so inconsiderate as to only care if one of them is hurt by this? How could you not realize that Feliciano is still traumatized by the idea of your brother's death"? He threw in a bunch of morbid details about how the kid would break down crying over Otto for years and how he still prays for him at mass and how he used to kiss me on the cheek every time I'd come see you. Then Liza sealed the deal by sprouting fresh tears and going on about how you're both still in love with each other, as if I were fucking blind or something.

And yes, I realize that you never did so much as even tell me that you find Feli attractive. But I would hope we both know that I'm not stupid. I knew what Otto's preference was going to be pretty early on and even though he never really understood that Feli was a little boy, I knew it wouldn't matter in the end. The way Otto loved Feli wasn't a matter of sex. They just belonged together. …so yeah, it was pretty dickish of me to be worried that you would be sad about your past and therefore let Feli go on mourning someone who isn't dead.

It's not that I don't adore the kid. But he had plenty of people protecting him, my job was you. So if I had to be a dick to do it, well I was going to.

I would have left it that way. But fate being the blood thirsty bitch that she is decided it was about time for the whole word to try to kill each other and that you ought to be killing people on the same side as the loveable, little Italian bastard. Even bitchy fate thought you ought to be together! I couldn't exactly keep acting like our past was nothing but behind us when I saw how close you were getting.

...But I did, until now.

Otto died in battle, much more gloriously than it looks like I'm going to. To me, that war will have been the worst one. Even this last one really paled in comparison to it. Maybe the memories colored the horror more brutal than it truly was. But still even if my memory were perfect, it would be the worst one. Perfect memory would no doubt make it burn more. I think it's good, that like normal people, we lose the details of events overtime. Especially the ones we failed to think much of, and I spent hundreds of years trying not to think of Otto's last days…and yet I remember the very smells of those moments. I don't want to think of this even now, but if I don't tell you everything you might never remember any of it.

I knew this place out in the countryside, somewhere in Austria today near Switzy's place. It was old even then, Old Fritz and I had spent some time hiding out there when he was just done with the political shit. I think in it's day, it would have been a gorgeous log home. But by the time I carried Otto's unconscious body into it, the place was more nature than house. But it was hard to find and would provide shelter.

I might have found something more suitable for a sick child, but Francis didn't give me much warning before he "killed you" and left you in the woods. There are those among us, who even now, would be brutally angry with him over that. We're not supposed to outlive our nations, or so they say. Either way, I couldn't bear you dying and he could see it. He's a better friend than he has to be. He knows I'm dying, he was there when the others decided my nation was done. I couldn't really talk to him in front of them. You should thank him for us sometime and let him know I was always so grateful

...That last bit was kinda off subject, forgive me that. My mind is all over the place and I'm getting kinda confused about what I should write down.

There was foot of snow on the ground the night we arrived at the house and you know the cold of winter in our part of the world. Thankfully, whoever had come before the thick dust settled over that place had left a pile of firewood. I not sure my nerves could have handled leaving Otto to chop it. He was feverish and he wouldn't wake up. I feared that despite having spared him the guillotine, he would drop dead of shock and the pain of losing his country. I now know what that pain feels like and I can't imagine how the timid little guy could have borne it as well as he had. But maybe Otto was already passing over to you then. It was as if you were immediately a stronger person. Maybe that was just my fancy, I don't know. After all, I so wanted you to grow strong like I thought only my brother could be.

The only fireplace in the house was downstairs, so I had to build him a bed out of some hay and our cloaks. I did some more scavenging and found some old curtains and a really dirty pillow to add to the mix. I tried to wake him up again, but he wouldn't budge. His skin was burning to the touch and his wounds were still bleeding, but I didn't have anything to dress them with. Liza had promised she would bring me provisions when she could, I knew that could be days. But I didn't dare leave him, no matter how hidden I felt like we were. If the wrong person found him alone, they would have brutally murdered him. …I guess you're wondering why I'm referring to you as him. But to me, it really is like you and Otto are completely different people.

Um, anyway, I was horrified. Otto was such a weak kid anyway and here he was a hatpin's drop from death and I didn't even have him any damn food. It was that quiet sort of horror. The kind where an eerie calm just descends over you and you think all these awful things, yet you can't feel them. As I write this, I feel that way again. It makes me feel fucking helpless and stupid, like I'm trapped in a glass box. All I could do was look at Otto and he just wasn't moving enough! And all I could think was that he had to come out of it because there was just no other option.

Then he started shivering and whining and stretching out his little hands like he was after something. At first I was hopeful, I tried to hold them. But he screamed at the contact and ripped himself away. He made a weak movement as if he wanted to rise from the pallet and when he couldn't manage it, he just started screaming again. I was terrified someone would hear and mortified that I had no idea what to do. I just watched him and I couldn't make myself brave enough to try to touch him again.

Eventually, he stopped and lapsed back into quietness. I was brave enough to check his pulse then. It was bit fast, but strong. Not long after that, my exhaustion from the battle began to get to me. I had a nasty cut in my leg and I knew the blood loss was going to just make me feel worse. I was afraid to sleep, worrying that someone might come or worse… things that I didn't dare dwell on. But despite my efforts, I did fall asleep. His voice woke me. It took my groggy mind a moment to get where I was, soon as it did I was right by his side. His eyes were wide open, something was wrong though. They weren't focused.

He began to speak. He asked for me in a terrible pleading voice. I tried to tell him I was there, but he didn't hear me. He began to wail for Roderich after a while, as if he hoped he would come instead. I continued to try to tell him I was there. I didn't dare to touch him again, or even to speak too loudly. But persistently I said "I'm here, Gilbert is here". I can't even phantom how much I must have said it. Finally, he lay back down on the pallet, but his eyes were still open. He began to cry and to whine out a constant stream of how sorry he was. Eventually, the word "Italy" came into it. Over and over he said he was sorry to Italy, sorry he hadn't come back. Eventually, he fell back asleep. I was again afraid to touch him, still I was sure his fever must be ungodly. His face was so red and the sweat rolled down from his hair. I was ashamed that his words of apology were the first I thought of poor little Italy since Otto's official death. The child would be devastated. Feli had been known to cry over bad food, how could bare that kind of heartbreak.

It was Antonio who arrived the night after. He could be spared a little more easily than Liza, but mostly he was just more foolish. The idiot was wearing some kinda awful fake mustache that was like not even the same color as his hair and a priest uniform. Apparently he and Liza used some kind coded pigeon messages to explain where I was and what was needed. I didn't understand it, at the time I still felt that the awesome me should always been seen and heard in person…and really, I should be. Paper just can't capture the personality.

Anyway, Tony brought Otto a huge amount of medicine, a lot of weird Spanish food, and he even brought me a huge bottle of rum. He stayed with me the whole two days that it took Otto to wake back up, even though he had to put him under a hell of a lot of suspicion when he got back home. There was a lot of un-awesome crying and he helped me choose your new name.

...and he supported me through the horror of you what happened when you woke up. Thank him too. He's damn stupid, but he means so well.

It was really early morning and Tony had gone to sleep on the floor. I was just watching Otto, immensely grateful that he was breathing steady. Then you opened your eyes. For a moment, you said nothing, simplify looking around, finally your eyes landed on me.

"What is this place"? You asked calmly. For a moment I couldn't speak, I was so excited.

"It's an old log cabin. No one will find is here. Your safe now, Otto" I explained, reaching out to pat you on the head. You didn't pull away for me, but your face was quizzical.

"Did you just call me Otto" you asked. It was as if the roof had opened and all the snow outside had fallen on top of me, I was suddenly so cold. I think you knew I was frightened, you tried to pat my arm. But I was the one who pulled away.

"Of course I called you Otto" I almost shrieked. I then felt Antonio's hand on my back. I hadn't heard him move.

"Shush, Gil." He instructed.

"Is he hurt" you asked, pointing at me.

"Yes, but you've been sicker and we're quite glad you awake" Antonio replied. "I take it you don't know your name"? He was speaking in his usual happy manner. I don't know how he managed it. You looked terribly confused.

"No, I don't" you replied, after sometime looking around the room as if you may see the answer.

"It's Ludwig" Tony replied "This is your brother, Gilbert and I'm Antonio. We'll take care of you" He said. Then he added to me in a whisper "Don't you see, this is a blessing. We can make him whoever he needs to be. Why should he recall Otto, when it is nothing but a danger to him".

I let Tony lead the rest of the conversation. Of all the things horrid I had expected, This had not made the list. My brother had ceased to exist in both name and identity. I'm not sure horror is a good enough word.

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><p>Did you like it? I really enjoy how it came out.<p>

I plan another chapter this week. I don't want to leave this hanging much longer. Future content will include WW2 and Gerita.

I would like to thank those of you whom have already favorited and followed this story, that was quite nice of you :)

Much love to my fellow Hetalians and Good Night!


	3. A Pretty Thing

**Thanks a lot to those of you who have favorited and followed this story since I last updated. It makes me happy! **

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Remember that the last chapter ended with Prussia having explained to Germany how he lost his memory of being Holy Rome.

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><p>Of course, I got over you having changed. I am the great me, after all. Rather you understood or not, you were still my brother and I still wanted to care for you. I moved you to a nicer home in our mother country. As children do, you learned to trust me again rather quickly and I began to educate you. When the time was right, Roderich and I agreed that we would call you Germany and no one ever questioned us. After all, that was back in the old days and we didn't spend hardly as much time with the other nations as we do now.<p>

No one told Feli, of course. He wasn't old enough for such a sensitive plan. No one has told him now, but I think he already knows a lot more than you might think. He's no great warrior, but he has a knowing heart….jeez, that sounds like a pansy statement. But hell, I am describing Feliciano!

You can't leave him.

You've always been together, you just hadn't remembered. We're hard to kill, but easily hurt by one another. You thinking you're not good enough for him is cute an all, but maybe you should ask what he thinks….you know, before you make his own damn decisions for him. Seriously bro, I know I taught you the control freak. But that's for folding clothes, not managing people.

I tried to avoid someone I loved once…and it worked, unfortunately. I doubt that you ever really noticed all that. After all, you were busy taking drawing lessons from adorable little Ita-kun at this time.

I used to spend a lot of time with you and Ita-kun at Austria's house. There's this one memory that seems to solidify them all for me. It was summertime. I snuck up on the two of you out by the pond. You had your sketch pads out drawing ducks. Of course, Feli's looked like a work of classic art. …and well, yours looked like a kid drawing ducks. As I watched you grew frustrated and threw down you pad. Italy had to have been pretty used to it, so he quickly began to try to complement it. But you knew the sweet little guy was lying, so off you ran. I caught you before you got far and you were so pleased to see me that you forgot you were mad. Italy weaved us flower crowns from cornflowers and white lilies and we just lay in the sun and you told me all about your quiet, little lives. I think you were both mad at priss for making you eat with napkins in your collars….or maybe that was another time. Anyway, it was classic priss move and I told you both to keep not doing it just cause I knew you'd go right and tell him I said so and how could I pass up an opportunity to corrupt his perfect child training?

That was about the time that Liza arrived, she didn't know I was there. I always went straight to you when I arrived. She had tears in her eyes. She looked horrified when she realized that I had seen her. I quickly asked you both to run back to the house and get a treat, before I could lose her. She's just as stubborn as I am, you know that's awful damn stubborn, and if had managed to run from me I would have never made her talk.

She threw her arms around me and actually let me hold her for a minute. Liza never let me have a tender moment like that, even before they were married. She was crying over you, of course. She understood what was to come. But that sadness drug up others and soon she was saying foolish things about how the two of us had always been together and why things had to be so tense between us and how I would always be her Gilbert. She even let me run my fingers through her pretty, hazel hair and draw her face close to mine to kiss her. But the whole time all I could think of was how he was better than me. Sure, I'm the more awesome one. But that's not the same as better. I pushed her away rather coldly, the same way I always had. I promised her you would be okay. But I returned none of her feelings about our past. I've always been mean to her. I was afraid of her. Afraid of hurting her, afraid of losing her, of not being good enough for her. There was nothing awesome about fear. I couldn't bear it, that level of weakness. Looking back, I spared weakness only for you and probably not enough.

The reason I tell you this pathetic bullshit is because you're locking all you weakness up inside. I can't have any of it and Felicano sure ain't getting any of it. Awful things happened, lies were shoved down our throats, your heart got stomped into just about as many pieces a Berlin, and now I'm leaving you alone. It's a really fucked up series of events, don't you think? I want you to take all that guilt, sadness, grief….love, hope, and I want you to talk more to Feli than you've ever talked to me in your damn life. Which could probably be accomplished in about two days, but seriously! Talk to him like I should have talked to Liza. Love is weakness. I see that now that I feel how sick the idea of leaving you alone makes me. I couldn't stand weakness and I taught you my own hatred of it. That was wrong. Everyone must be weak in front of someone. Allowing you heart to be visible to just that one other person, it's about essential for a warrior. If you give them all your weakness, no one else can see it. It turns out that I gave you all of it I could, so I should know.

I had suspected that you loved Feliciano again for a long time. But it was an accidental moment that set in stone for me. We were in the capitol to meet about how we were losing ground in the Second World War. Felicano was there as well, though Kiku was off in the Pacific. The meeting had been awful, no one listened to anyone, when they did the conversation was kept too cryptic to understand. The winked at each other, even sunk as low as note passing. You kept trying to draw the attention to the awful conditions of the trench warfare in France, but everyone just kept returning to the issue of racial purification. Someone said something about how your pretty features would be better put to use breeding the master race than all twisted into serious expressions. You cracked on that one. I didn't flinch as you stormed out of the conference room. But Feli was right behind you, the monster's way of speaking always tore him up. He couldn't stay in the room without you next to him. I waited it out from pure spite. I wanted to say something, anything that may direct the meeting in a useful direction. But it was as if my tongue were glued to the roof of my mouth.

An agonizing hour later, I left as quickly as I possibly could. I was thinking about Old Fritz, about how I lived for his strategy meetings, his speeches, his battles. How I loved him, trusted him, was proud of him. The meeting I had just endured made me sick in comparison. I felt as if I was coated in slime and longed to take a scotching shower. The apartment we kept in the city was nearby. I ran over as hard as I could, hoping the exertion would blot out the rest of my feelings. Yet I was still angry when I arrived, so I ran up the six flights of stairs rather than taking the elevator.

At the top, I slumped against the wall to catch my breath. The staircase doors were made of glass, remember? I could see the two of you in the hall. I would have come on through, wanting the company of people I actually cared for, but I saw how close you were together. Feli was holding you hand to his face. His lips were moving, but I couldn't hear him. You were slumped against the wall, your head hanging low, your hair all out of place. I very carefully opened the door just a tiny bit. He was urging you to have a drink, to go to bed, to confront whatever it was you were feeling when you were clearheaded in the morning. I was startled by his mature tone. You weren't saying anything, but it was painfully obvious to me that you were crying. …Shamefully, the way I taught you to feel about tears. Sorry. ..and for eavesdropping on you conversation, but you looked so scared!

I was frozen in place, unsure of what to do. So, I just kept watching as he leaned towards you to kiss you. Your whole body went rigid at first. But it didn't take but maybe a second for you to return the gesture, pressing your lips back to his, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him as close to you as you could without crushing him. He gripped his fingers tightly in you hair.

I stepped away quickly then, heading back down the stairs. Something about the desperation in your gestures made me think coming back in an hour would be a better idea. It made me cry seeing the two of you that way because I felt so bad and it was such a pretty thing. I remember desperately hoping that wasn't the first time you'd kissed as adults. That night, that whole section of years, would have been such an ugly time for a beautiful moment like that.

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><p>Did you like it? Please, do let me know!<p>

I'm going to start working on the next chapter right now, I think I may mention Germania in it.

Goodnight! It's 12:53 PM here on the East Coast of the USA.


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